He’s losing Bishop with all his talk of the supernatural. I have to direct the conversation where it needs to be: back to the children.
“The fetuses Tucker smuggled out of Eden—where are they now?” But I already know the answer, plucked from Luther’s mind as he turns to face me. They are nearby, under guard.
“Would you like to see them?” His eyes are bright and eager, like a child’s.
Bishop nods.
“Your doctor—he did not make the climb with you?” Luther asks.
“Internal comms are still functioning.” Bishop taps his helmet. “I’ll note the vitals and relay whatever details Doc Harris needs to know.” He pauses as Luther positions himself to usher us out into the passageway beyond. “I meant what I said before, Luther. If the readings indicate the fetuses are abnormal in any way, you’ll have saved us a trip to Eden. My superiors won’t be interested in Willard’s bargain. The guy sounds like a real nutjob anyway.”
If he only knew the extent of Willard’s insanity.
A sudden concern crops up in my mind: Why haven’t I been able to sense the mind of the young female for the past few hours?
Are you still there? I reach out into the unknown. You are not alone. I am here. We are together again.
No response.
Is she sleeping? She has always been more receptive to my telepathy—from that first moment in the nursery when she opened her eyes and projected her thoughts into my mind. But now, there is not even an inkling that the two fetuses are here in these caves.
I am not going anywhere, I press my thoughts outward. I will never leave you again. You can trust me.
Will Bishop detect any genetic abnormalities in the young ones? Doubtful. He is no doctor. Luther believes that only people who breathe the dust in the air are changed by spirits, altering their genetic makeup and gifting them with supernatural abilities. Willard sees the ashen dust on the earth as a contaminant and believes all who let the particulate matter into their lungs are allowing themselves to be turned into mutant freaks of nature. That’s why, as far as I know, not one of Willard’s men in Eden have become infected. But these fetuses are different. They are from parents whose genes have already been affected by their contact with the surface—either blessed with supernatural gifts from spirits of the extinct animal kingdom, or infected by rapid-acting mutagens. Judging by the UW team’s environmental suits, I’m inclined to believe they will side with Willard’s point of view.
As the fetuses grew and developed in the nursery, deep beneath Eden, I didn’t notice a single abnormality in their genetic makeup. From my work with Luther and Daiyna, Samson and Shechara—under Willard’s iron-fisted supervision—including my own blood samples, I noticed certain genetic markers: decidedly mammalian, but not quite human. That much would support Luther’s claims. But there were no such markers in the DNA taken from the fetuses—not in any of the twenty young ones. At the time, I saw no reason to think that would change. They would be born, I assumed, as all-natural human beings.
But then the young one’s telepathy manifested itself. Would having such a superhuman ability alter her genetic makeup—or be the result of mutant genes? There is no way to tell. My tests returned inconclusive: no change whatsoever in the genetic markers.
As Luther leads us through these quiet caves, I have to wonder if any abnormalities will reveal themselves now that the fetuses’ telepathic link with me is apparently broken. And if not, will my presence reactivate our shared ability?
If Willard finds out the nursery full of incubation pods is useless in his bargain with the UW, he will destroy them. All he wants is to save his own skin. Nothing will stand in his way.
But if those children could be saved…
I can’t imagine returning to Eden and facing Willard, the man who nearly destroyed my life. But I know Luther’s mind; he wants to rescue all of the fetuses from Eden’s depths, and I will do anything I can to help him. Even if it means lying about those inconclusive test results from weeks ago.
I can make those results sound as solid as granite. As long as it means Luther will receive the UW military support he needs in order to invade Eden.
“Please leave us, my brothers.” Luther nods to the pair of armed sentries standing watch in an alcove beside the two incubation pods. No one else is nearby.
Bishop’s thoughts crowd my mind with questions: How extensive are these caves? Where do the rest of Luther’s people hide themselves? Where are Cain’s warriors? I try to send him a sense of peace, but my attention is divided, my focus on the young ones.
“Thank you,” Luther says as the sentries leave, unable to keep their curious glances from the UW sergeant in his bulky environmental suit.
“We’ll be right outside,” one of them says.
Bishop hesitantly approaches the two stasis chambers. He looks like one of the ancient faithful on pilgrimage to a holy temple, presented with a golden altar to his god—known until now as only legend, but at this moment so very real.
Luther looks at me, catching my gaze.
Bishop will help us. He is a good man.
I nod, agreeing with him, hoping my telepathic intuition is right. But at the moment, I can’t discern Luther’s thoughts from my own. Somehow, they have become tangled together. Perhaps because we both hope for the same thing.
Bishop is staring at the incubation pods. “It’s been so long…” He clears his throat. I sense his surging emotions. “We haven’t seen newborns in Eurasia for years—well over a decade. These two—they’re not even born yet, and they look so…They’re perfect.”
I face Bishop across the two canisters. “They are healthy.” My gaze travels across the holographic display in the clear pane of plasticon providing a view of each sleeping fetus. “Nearly to term.”
Bishop looks up from the chambers. “So they’re ready. They could be—” He nods once in military fashion at the look on my face. “They’re ready,” he repeats, doing his best to sound like everything is business as usual. “Are you planning to release them soon? Allow them to be…born?” He doesn’t know what other word to use. Neither do I, as I translate.
“I would have to say that depends on you.” Luther gestures toward the pods with an open hand. “Contact your doctor, Sergeant. See what he says.”
“Right.” Bishop looks over the readouts projected on each stasis chamber. “Alright Doc, tell me what I’m looking for,” he says on internal comms.
Harris replies instantly, and the two of them begin conversing, the doctor instructing the sergeant on how to monitor the vital signs of each unborn child.
Without warning, the female’s eyes open, focusing on Bishop.
I hold my breath.
“Well, would you look at that...” Bishop grins, despite his best intentions to keep a straight face. He can’t contain himself. “She’s looking right at me!”
“It may appear that way,” I’m quick to explain, whether or not it’s the truth in this case. “Their eyes are not yet able to focus, and with the amniotic fluid—”
Is he safe?
The young one’s thought enters my mind so abruptly, I blink against a brief wave of vertigo.
“You all right?” Bishop reaches for me.
I steady myself. “Fine. I just—I haven’t eaten in a while.”
“You and me both.” He chuckles.
Luther speaks quietly with one of the sentries standing outside before turning back toward us. “Forgive me, I should have offered you something.”
Bishop faces me. “If the others are anything like these two, then it looks like we’re still headed to Eden.”
I focus on the female’s pod. We can trust him.
Luther smiles as I relay Bishop’s response, obviously pleased. But his eyes have yet to relinquish their sadness. “I had hoped so.”
“Don’t misunderstand,” Bishop says grimly. “The children will be taken by the UW. There’s nothing I can do about that. I’m just the middle man here.”
/> I can tell that he regrets this being the case. My tone shows as much.
“Better with your people than Willard’s,” Luther says, and if I didn’t know better, I might have believed him. “I ask only that you allow us to go with you.”
“Out of the question.” Bishop glances at me, certain I don’t plan on making the return trip. He’s right about that. “Your presence would only add to what could be a volatile situation—if what you’ve told me about Willard is true. Besides, what’s to keep you from overpowering my team once we get to Eden and taking the children yourselves?” He holds up a gloved hand to halt Luther’s objection once I repeat the question. “You told me yourself. They’re yours. It makes perfect sense that you’d want them back. But I can’t allow that to happen. The future of the world depends on it.”
“And where do we fit into this future?” Luther asks.
Is there any place for people like us, now that the UW knows of our existence?
Bishop looks at a loss for words. “I honestly don’t know.”
“This is the situation,” I explain. “Willard’s only goal is to get off this continent and return to the outside world. The children are merely a means to that end. If he doesn’t get what he wants from you, then he will destroy them all.”
Bishop doesn’t believe that. He cannot fathom anyone being so selfish—or evil. “Leave him to me.”
“He has you outnumbered, Sergeant. And outgunned. At least allow me to send a few of our sentries with you,” Luther insists. “You don’t realize the power Willard has at his disposal.”
“I appreciate your concern—” Bishop begins.
“Tell him.” Into Luther’s mind, I project a scene from last year in Eden: of Luther and two of his friends trapped underneath the city’s sublevels with hordes of flesh-eating mutants advancing on them.
Luther nods, taking a deep breath before diving in. “Willard’s men themselves are well-armed and outnumber your team five to one. But in addition, Willard has hordes of collared daemons at his disposal. Those flesh-eaters that shot down your aircraft—Willard has managed to fit them with remote-controlled shock collars to do his bidding. You’ll never leave Eden alive unless he permits it, and that’s assuming you make it there in the first place. There are plenty of wild daemons between here and Eden to contend with, and their only desire is for fresh meat.”
I rest a hand on the forearm of Bishop’s suit. “Two of your team are injured already. Would it not be wise to allow Luther to send help with you?” I face Luther. “Do you still have the Hummer you took from Eden?”
He nods. “Samson has kept it running well.”
Bishop looks at me. “You won’t be our chauffeur.”
I let go of his arm and turn back to the incubation pods. “I am needed here.” But into his mind, I project, When the spirits appeared to you, what did they say?
Bishop shrugs. To listen to Luther. And I have.
There is a difference between hearing and listening, Sergeant, I remind him.
He paints a real bleak picture. If what he says is true, then the odds are decidedly against us.
Luther clears his throat quietly. “If you will not accept our help, will you at least contact your people off-shore for their support? Believe me when I say I only want those children to live. Yes, they are your future. But they are ours, as well.”
“We both want the same thing, Sergeant,” I tell him. “To rescue those babies from Eden.”
Bishop raises an eyebrow. “If I’d known that’s what this mission was all about, I might have brought more men.” He recalls the handful of well-armed jarheads that blew up in the chopper, and I see each of their faces in his mind.
“Radio your ship,” Luther says. “Don’t go to Eden alone.”
Bishop nods. “Our doctor’s taking care of it, once he has a chance to go over the information I gave him. He’ll request full support. But I’m not getting my hopes up, not after the first contact we made with those well-armed freaks out there. The UW doesn’t make a habit of losing its assets, and that helicopter isn’t easily replaceable. It’s not like your factories are running over here anymore, churning out everything we need. We’ve had to make do with what we’ve got.”
Luther nods pensively as I relay the sergeant’s side of the conversation. “There is another matter.”
“Cain.”
“His warriors are here already—those who attacked you. And Cain himself is en route with more of his people.” Luther pauses. “He will want to take you and your team by force, back to his encampment. For judgment.”
“That’s insane.” Despite his best efforts at masking his emotions, Bishop is beginning to look a little unsure about the situation. “The UW would never stand for such a thing. If he thinks he can—”
“He does. That is not the issue.” Luther’s features take on a hard edge in the green light of the glowsticks. “The question is whether we allow them to take you without a fight.”
“You would do that.” Bishop sets his jaw. “Let them take us.”
“You are free to leave whenever you like. On your own to Eden, or in captivity when Cain arrives. No one is holding you here.”
Bishop narrows his gaze. “But if I allow you to join us on our mission to Eden…”
“Then we would be allies, and I would not allow Cain to take you where you do not wish to go. But you need to decide quickly, Sergeant. Cain will be here within the hour.”
I see an image in Bishop’s mind of dust billowing on the western horizon.
“Tell me this,” he says. “Why haven’t you returned to Eden for your children before now—if you’ve known they were there?”
The glimmer of a smile appears on Luther’s lips. “Until now, we would have been outnumbered. Even with the aid of the spirits, there was no telling whether we would be able to reach Eden in time. As we’ve said, it would not be beneath Willard to destroy the fetuses on a whim. They have no value to him unless he can use them to get what he wants.” Luther reaches out his scarred right hand. “But now we have the United World government as our ally.”
Weighing the consequences, Bishop extends his gloved hand, and the two men shake. “For now. We’ll see what happens when we get to Eden.”
“You have my word, Sergeant. No harm will befall your team. And if the Creator wills it, perhaps I will be able to convince Cain and his warriors to join us as well in our march on Eden.”
That would take a miracle, Bishop muses, the sentiment as clear as if it was spoken aloud. “We should leave now.”
“As soon as Cain arrives, that will be decided.”
Bishop frowns. “I’d say it’s in the best interest of my team to get out of here well before Cain arrives.”
“His people are already here.” Luther lowers his voice. “While you remain under my protection in the Homeplace, they would not think to act against you. Set off on your own, and you would be at their mercy. But if you trust me and wait, we’ll see if Cain is able to set aside our differences. It will be well worth it if we are finally able to unite our people in sight of a common goal.”
Bishop glances at me. This is something else the spirit said when it appeared to him—that more than anything, Luther sees it as his purpose in life to establish unity among the continent’s survivors. At least the ones who aren’t flesh-eating freaks. I nod, knowing Luther’s welcome extends even to the people of Eden. Tucker and I are proof of that.
“I would like to see Tucker now, if that’s all right,” I say as the sentries return, bearing nutrition and hydro-packs.
“Of course.” Luther directs the distribution of food and water.
“Standard rations.” Bishop smirks as he attaches two packs to the intake valves on the abdominal wall of his suit. “Is this what you people live on?”
I tear into my packs. “Beggars can’t be choosers. In Eden, however, they eat full course meals, three times a day.”
“One of the benefits of living below a trade sector,”
Luther says. “They have been able to find everything they need in storage, unaffected by the residue from D-Day. Willard’s remote-controlled daemons carry scavenged goods from the surface down into Eden.” He nods to one of the sentries. “Please escort our friend Margo to see Mr. Tucker. I believe Samson is with him.”
The sentry glances at me with a thinly veiled contempt. A cursory scan of his thoughts is all it takes for me to know he is one of the Eden-hating faction, led by Daiyna. While appreciating Luther’s gesture of sending an armed escort along, I kindly decline.
“That won’t be necessary. I’m sure if you just point me in the right direction—”
“I insist.” Concern clouds Luther’s gaze. “If Cain’s warriors were to see you here…”
It isn’t Cain’s people who unnerve me. But before I can reply, shouts echo throughout the caverns. A staccato of weapons fire erupts in the distance, beyond the mouth of the cave. Luther gestures sharply for the sentries to guard the incubation pods as Daiyna appears in the passageway outside. Pausing amid the flow of bodies rushing past her, she adjusts the automatic rifle strapped over her shoulder and fixes me with a hard look. She beckons Luther toward her.
“What’s happened?” he demands.
Pandemonium owns the moment amid voices clamoring and rifles firing.
Daiyna catches her breath. “It’s not good.” She gives him the handgun that was tucked into her belt. “Cain’s here.”
Bishop stomps forward. “What the hell is going on?”
I crouch down between the two incubation pods and close my eyes. It is difficult to tell whose thoughts are whose in the cacophony around us, but I am able to discern the mind of the young female clearly enough:
We are in danger.
Part V
Blood
20 Cain
18 Months After All-Clear
I sense their heartbeats long before we reach Luther’s Homeplace. Five on the ridge above, three below, two of them wounded. As the ashen wasteland before us rises steadily into the foothills, I recognize one of the pulses immediately with my keen, Gaia-blessed sight. Its youthful anxiety is palpable.
Spirits of the Earth: The Complete Series: (A Post-Apocalyptic Series Box Set: Books 1-3) Page 68
